


Brothers

by BroltaAMaga



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroltaAMaga/pseuds/BroltaAMaga
Summary: This is my first ever work of erotica/fanfic. So be gentle lol... The scene in Vikings where Ubbe let Hvitserk join into his marriage because he could tell he and Margrethe liked each other ("I can see") intrigued me and here's my take on how that might have played out. I wrote this right after that episode, and still follow the show, (no spoilers) so obviously things may not have gone this way. I simply take one suggested path in the show and branch off. Enjoy.





	1. Marriage Night

**Author's Note:**

> I love constructive criticism, so please leave some if you want... <3

“Come on, this is my marriage night. Let’s go to bed,” Margrethe purred, having just pulled her dress already halfway off. She stared down both the brothers and took a step backwards towards the bed. Ubbe and Hvitserk, smiling like hungry wolves on the scent of prey, slunk towards her. 

Hvitserk had edged slightly in front of Ubbe, but once they reached their woman, Ubbe grabbed her first and pulled her hard, against him, his hands sliding along her jaw, grabbing handfuls of her hair as he kissed her firmly. Hvitserk slid up against her from behind, burying his face into her hair and inhaling as his hands traced the curves of her hips. Ubbe’s teeth sunk into Margrethe’s bottom lip and she yelped, then moaned against him as he and Hvitzerk both grabbed the top of her dress and slid it from her body together. She stood, naked, pressed between them, their rough linen and leather clothing a sending a sweet quiver over her bare, soft skin. They worshipped her from both sides with kisses, Ubbe moving down to take a nipple into his mouth and Hvitserk pulling her hair out of the way to kiss the back of her neck. She reached back, grabbing and caressing Hvitserk between his legs, and he sucked in his breath. With the other hand, she grabbed Ubbe’s chin firmly and led him from her breasts, up to kiss her mouth again. 

Ubbe obliged and then growled low as she turned to kiss Hvitserk. She was teasing him, first a light, exploratory touch, her fingers deep in the crease along his inner thigh, then a firm, long stroke up along the length of him. She kissed him gently at first, lips closed, and he played right along with her. He pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, she inhaled sharply and kissed him harder. Ubbe pulled off his shirt, pressed his chest to her back, and then dived back in, one hand reaching around her naked hips and cupping her sex in his palm. Margrethe tossed her head back against his shoulder, turned and he kissed her. He simply held her in his hand for a few moments, just enjoying the warmth of her center. He pressed his hand harder up against her, making her rise up on her toes and moan into his mouth. He smiled as he gently slid his middle finger between her folds, rocking it back and forth within her and making her gasp.

Hvitserk stood back watching for a few moments and his eyes widened as he watched his brother’s hand on his love. He bit his lip and quickly slipped out of his shirt as well. Unable to just watch any longer, he dropped to his knees in front of her. Ubbe took the cue and moved his hands up to stroke her breasts. Hvitserk held her hips and put his mouth on her. Margrethe, eyes closed, was unaware the brothers' attentions had switched places. Margrethe’s knees buckled under her when she felt Hvitserk's probing tongue take the place of Ubbe's hand. She cried out, knees weakened and Ubbe quickly caught her, his hands under her arms to help steady her and again over her shoulder, kissed her. She couldn’t bear it all and threw her head back again, sagging against him and while Ubbe's strong arms braced her, he looked down and watched. Her noises were driving him crazy and he smiled briefly to himself as he felt his manhood swell against her ass. 

Ubbe couldn’t take it a moment longer, he had to be inside her. He tore her away from his brother, tossed her on the bed making her squeal as Hvitserk stood, wiping the side of his mouth with his thumb. Both men stood over her, surveying their prize. She licked her lips, slid forward on the furs to the edge of the bed. She put her feet in the floor, pressed her knees tight together and wiggled a finger at them. 

Hvitserk looked over at his brother, cocked an eyebrow and took a small step back, motioning that the proper husband get her first. Ubbe hustled his pants off and leaned down to her, grabbing her knees like he would spread her legs and drive himself into her, but Margrethe had different plans. Right after he spread her knees apart, he slid herself forward to the edge of the bed, wrapped her legs around Ubbe's calves and in one quick motion, took him into her mouth. In surprise, he nearly fell over and grabbed for something, anything to steady himself. The only sturdy thing he found was Hvitserk’s shoulder and they both laughed as he clung to his brother for strength as she continued her ministrations. It was quickly Hvitserk’s turn to lose his footing and gasp however when Margrethe reached over with her free hand and worked her fingers deftly over him. He gasped, chuckled and desperately reached for the heavy oak beam next to him, thankful for its stability. He quickly tugged his pants off too, and she continued, taking his bare flesh into her palm. Both brothers, shoulder to shoulder, shuddered under her spell, eyes closed and heads thrown back. Margrethe’s eyes darted back from one brother to the other and she smiled, her lips still on Ubbe. 

She pulled away suddenly and they both looked down at her, eyes glazed over with want and curiosity.  
“Husband,” she said diplomatically and pulled Ubbe down to her, spreading her knees as he slid between them. Hvitserk only had a split second to feel out of place as she quickly grabbed his hand and led him down to her. She pulled Hvitserk down to the mattress, but up to her mouth and he kissed her deeply as Ubbe, on his knees at the foot of the bed, buried his face in her lap. 

Margrethe moaned, the beginnings of her release just starting to build. Ubbe pulled his mouth away and she whimpered, but he slid his body up against hers and reached down to guide himself in her, quickly satisfying her need for him. He buried himself in her to the hilt and his face in her neck as Hvitserk rolled out of the way and onto his side. He grabbed at her face, kissing her deeply as she worked her fingers over him. His brother might get to be inside of her, but he reveled in getting whatever else he could of her, her mouth, her hands.

Ubbe thrust hard at first, making her gasp, but then slowed and strengthened his movements into his wife. He circled his hips against her, pulling her outside thigh up, the one furthest from Hvitserk, and hooking it over his bent elbow. The harder she moaned, the harder he thrust into her. Hvitserk moaned, too, low and desperate, bit his lip in an attempt to hold back his release and Margrethe, knowingly loosened her grip and slowed her strokes on him. But with Ubbe, she doubled the speed and force of her thrusts against him, and he quickly reached his zenith, pouring into her as she cried out, bucking against him with her own climax. Hvitserk strained to open his eyes when he heard her and sweat slicked his body as he watched her face.

Ubbe fell to the mattress on her right, chest flushed and heaving. Hvitserk didn’t miss a beat and rolled her quickly onto her side, both of them facing Ubbe. He grabbed at her hips, pulled her back against him, and slid fast and firmly within her. He could still feel her walls convulsing from Ubbe. It surprised him and he scrabbled for purchase on her, anywhere, to steady himself. He lifted her top leg slightly, anchoring her bent knee under his hand and pressed deeply into her. Deeper than Ubbe had gone, Margrethe vaguely noticed, her head a blur. 

Ubbe came to his senses and rolled onto to his left side, looked down and enjoyed the unobstructed view, watched as Hvitserk slid in and out of her. As he’d said when Margrethe had asked how they wouldn’t be jealous, he realized again it was because they were Viking. They were kings, Gods among men and while sure, they loved their women, they could easily share them if it was in a display of their prowess like this. Ubbe loved the feeling it gave him to overpower and control a woman and with Hvitserk along, well, there was strength in numbers.

Ubbe watched as Margrethe’s chest grew freshly flushed, her nipples that had just barely relaxed after him tightened again and listened to her breathing catch in her throat. He leaned up on an elbow, reached out and stroked her body tenderly all over in front of him as his younger brother plunged into her from behind. Unable to stop herself, Hvitserk's name was on Margrethe's lips in a breathy sigh. Ubbe's hand flew up, grabbed her jaw firmly. Her eyes flew open and he narrowed his at her. 

“You’re ours.”

She nodded, feeling a small thrill in her chest from his authority, then gasped as he reached down and circled his fingers on her womanhood. The combination of her new husband’s fingers on her and his brother, the one she secretly loved the most, deep inside her from behind was more than she could take and she panted and heaved against the both of them for only a few moments until she was crying out, whimpering nonsensical noises as her brain tried in vain to decide which brother to give credit to. She didn't want to anger Ubbe again either, so she settled on a neutral, breathy moan instead of a name. Ubbe crushed her mouth with a kiss and with one last flick of his fingers, sent her over the brink. 

When Hvitserk felt the inner, rolling undulations of her climax begin and along with the feeling of the muscular curve of her ass clench against him, he quickly joined her, mixing his seed with his brother’s deep inside. 

The three of them heaved, sighed and then chuckled breathlessly, exhausted, together, not quite believing what had just occurred. Rather than try to figure out what to possibly say to break the silence, they all simply pulled one another tighter and drifted off to sleep, Hvitserk still inside of Margrethe and Ubbe’s hand resting between her thighs.


	2. Stealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The polyamorous marriage between Ubbe, Margrethe and Hvitserk continues and as anyone could have guessed, even Vikings get jealous.

The morning sun filtering through a loose slat streaked across Ubbe's face, waking him. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, stretched and yawned. He noticed Margrethe's hair then in his peripheral vision and the night before all came rushing back. He craned his neck, surveying her beautiful, naked body pressed up against him and his hand instinctively trailed along her backbone. She stirred, a small, soft moan escaping her lips. Ubbe shifted then, pressure in his bladder requiring him to move and he frowned reluctantly, touched her again. Two moments longer though had him grimacing again and and he slid out from under her and into his pants before slipping out the door. 

Hvitserk's eyes flew open when he heard the door shut as he'd been pretending to be asleep. He pulled Margrethe to him and kissed her shoulder. She smiled, waking and nestled her bottom tighter against him. He chuckled. "You'd better quit that or your husband will walk back in to the scene of me buried balls deep in you." 

It was Margrethe's turn to chuckle then. "Yes, and?" Hvitserk gasped in mock shock then laughed but Margrethe grew serious, turned to face him. "But really, Hvitserk. Your brother said it himself. You're Viking. You won't get jealous." 

Hvitserk kissed her lightly on the nose. "Yes, I'm Viking but that was not me that said that. It broke my heart that he got to marry you and this new, uh, arrangement? I only agreed to it so I could have you at all. If it's share you or not have you at all, I'll share you. But I hate it." Margrethe's eyes turned to dark blue pools and she smiled warmly at him. She looked at the door to make sure Ubbe wasn’t back yet and whispered “I love you, Hvitserk. It was always you." He reached for her and they kissed deeply. Margrethe slid out of his arms and quickly put her dress on. He watched her lustily for a moment but flipped onto his back with a huff realizing he probably couldn’t take her then and there like he’d like to. Regardless of Ubbe’s offer to share her, Hvitserk knew he’d always be in second position, being younger than Ubbe and he was not her actual husband. He closed his eyes tightly in frustration but they flew open again when Margrethe leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Ubbe said yesterday he was going hunting later with Sigurd and Bjarke….” Hvitserk nodded. “Yes, I’m supposed to go too.” She smiled at him, raising an eyebrow and he smirked. “But…maybe I can find a way to get out of it.”  
Margrethe smiled at that and walked out the back door. She ran right into Ubbe and yelped a bit in surprise. He smiled, pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She sighed, melting into it. He pulled back. “It’s just me, your husband,” he said with a small smile. She beamed back at him, then pulled back and frowned like a spoiled child. “Do you have to go hunting today?” 

Ubbe gently smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her lightly once on the lips. “Don’t worry, wife, I’ll be back soon. And besides, you’ll like it. Chasing and killing things makes me want a woman with the fervor of Freyr.” He winked at her and she giggled. She reached around, cupping his ass in her hands and giving it a firm squeeze. “Good. I’ll have some vegetable stew ready on the fire and when you get back, you can add your meat.” Ubbe snorted at her dirty joke, smiled mischievously and pulled her hard against him. He kissed her hard for a bit, but then slowed, stroking her arms more lovingly.  
“I’m happy that I married you, Margrethe. I know our arrangement is a little unusual, but are you happy too? Are you happy with me?”  
Margrethe laced her hands behind his back and smiled up at him.  
“I love you, Ubbe. I’m happy. I’m glad you were the first one to take me and I’m glad that even with our... unusual arrangement... I’m your rightful wife.” 

Later, Margrethe stirred the pot over the fire and then turned to chop more vegetables. Hvitserk's arms slid around her waist and she gasped. "I didn't even hear you come in!" She whipped around in his arms and kissed him. "The sons of Ragnar are known for their stealth," he said, pulling away and raising his eyebrows. She giggled and tried to smack his hand as he grabbed for a potato slice but he was too quick. He popped it in his mouth smiling. “Stealth." He sat down at the long bench and she poured him a cup of ale. "How did you slip away? Was he suspicious?" Hvitserk took a long swallow. "I missed two shots on purpose, said the gods clearly weren't on my side today, and came home. Ubbe didn't seem to care much, actually. But I think he knew exactly what we are up to." He smiled, unworried but Margrethe turned her eyes flashing with doubt and anxiety. "Oh I hope you're right. We're not doing anything wrong really, I mean, this whole thing was his idea. What’s he going to do, be there every time?” 

Hvitserk swung a leg over the bench and swiveled so he could straddle it, then leaned forward, his hands grasping both sides of the bench in front of him.. He looked up at her and smiled, his eyes potent. Margrethe noticed, but smiled a small smile and kept chopping vegetables. He reached up, grabbed the side of her dress and pulled her to him. Margrethe straddled him. She put the knife down and nestled her bottom against him making him groan. "Are you sure you have time for me?" He teased. "Don't you need to finish the stew?" Margrethe shrugged, her breath coming shorter and harder from being on his lap and feeling his hardness against the cleft of her ass. "It can wait." At that, Hvitserk grabbed her behind, pressed his forearms against her outer thighs and stood up. He gingerly stepped over the bench, holding Margrethe in his arms, her legs snug around his middle. He pressed his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes, both of them losing their breath a bit. Their mouths crushed one another's at the same moment and she purred against Hvitserk as he kneaded her ass with his hands. He started to make his way to the bedroom, but she stopped him. "No, I can't bear another moment. Make love to me right on the table, Hvitserk." His eyes clouded with want at her breathy demand. He gently laid her down before him on the end of table, and quickly reached for his buckle. Within moments he had his pants around his ankles, her dress above her waist and himself deep within. She squealed beneath him and wrapped her legs around him tightly, her heels pushing into his back, urging him deeper and faster.

Ubbe slipped in the back door, quiet and quick as a cat. He slunk up to the wall that separated the bedroom from the kitchen. He could already hear them and as pressed his eye up to it, watching the couple through a small break in the woven branches that formed the barrier, he knew what he’d see. He felt his pace quicken as he watched Margrethe, arch her back up off the table to meet Hvitzerk’s thrusts and take him deeper. Margrethe called out Hvitserk's name and Ubbe brought a hand up to his lips and chewed on a thumbnail, narrowing his eyes, but not only with rage. He wasn't sure exactly what he felt. It was such an odd mixture of arousal and a little anger watching her, the sting of betrayal, slight revulsion mixed with pride for his little brother’s obviously familial skill and then finally, the excitement of it being a secret he was there. He stared intensely at them, not blinking, watching her every move. 

He sucked his breath in slowly when Margrethe lowered her legs, untangled herself from his brother and turned around, bending over the table. As Hvitserk shoved up her fallen dress hem and reburied himself in her, Ubbe reached into his pants and found himself. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, straining to be quiet, then opened them again to watch. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with Margrethe, who’d spotted him. Her head was sideways, her cheek on the table . She licked her lips and smiled secretively at him. Hvitserk was oblivious, his head thrown back, eyes closed, deeply entranced by pleasure. Margrethe kept her eyes locked on Ubbe and he braced one hand slowly on the wall, continuing with his other below. He saw her climax starting in her face before she made a single sound about it. Her skin suddenly had that flush, that subtle shudder to it as it built and Ubbe sped up, gripping himself tighter. When Margrethe cried out, still not taking her eyes off him, he shuddered too, biting his lip hard to keep quiet and came with her. She smiled at him, knowing from the shine and strain in his eyes he’d found his release as well. Ubbe’s breath stuttered out slowly as he fought against every natural urge to exhale loudly. He returned her smile and turned quietly on his heel, not interested in hearing or watching the rest. As Hvitserk cried out and finished, Ubbe slipped out the back door.


	3. The Glade

The next day, Margrethe was out in the village and Ubbe slid up behind her, pressing himself into her and running a hand over the curve of her ass. She smiled and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.   
“Come with me.”   
It was a command, but Margrethe realized again how much she liked it from him as a spark fired up her spine when he said it. He grabbed her hand in his and led her through the crowds, people parting respectfully for them. Ubbe was used to it, expected it, but it was new for Margrethe and a rush of excitement prickled over her skin. As they walked outside of the village and into the forest, Margrethe smiled. She wanted to be alone with Ubbe. Her first time ever had been in the barn with him and she had had so much sex with the brothers since then, with Hvitzerk and Sigurd in the forest, that awful, terrifying attempt with Ivar, then her unbelievable orgy of a wedding night, on the table with Hvitserk yesterday… it was all becoming a blur and she was sore just thinking about it all. 

She might love Hvitserk more deeply, and he was sweeter, more sensitive, but Ubbe was such a domineering man, knowing what was his rightfully and when he took it, it thrilled her. But, she realized, sadly, looking over her shoulder towards the village, towards Hvitserk, Ubbe would never love her like that. What Hvitserk had said the morning after they had all been together cemented that in her mind. Ubbe would never get jealous because he simply didn’t care enough for her. She frowned at the thought and briefly entertained the idea of running away from him, back to Hvitserk. Her heart sunk though, knowing there was no out for her, Ubbe would chase after her, claim what was his and might not agree to let Hvitserk share her any longer. He might even kill Hvitserk if he tried to claim her. That thought stopped her short and she tripped over a small root in the path. She tried to focus on the good of the situation, what there was of it. Two powerful men, two sons of Ragnar Lothbrok for Allfather’s sake wanted her, fucked her. One had claimed her and the other loved her.

And she no longer had to work as a slave, she was a married woman with a warm, safe home. They were already looking for a slave to serve her now! And people parted in the village when she walked through. She squeezed Ubbe’s hand at the thought, without thinking, and he turned and looked at her, smiled. Her heart leapt and she found herself very confused. Was she in love with both of them? No, no she couldn’t be. She’d had both of them last night and while it was amazing, she knew in her heart Hvitserk was her love. With every touch, every kiss of his, she felt how much he loved her and her, him. While Ubbe, well, he was a very skilled lover for one thing. And while it was exciting to have a man like him pleasure you, it wasn’t love. She also felt more like a conquest, and a showpiece, like he’d been showing off for his little brother, demonstrating how Viking he was. When he had pulled up her chin forcefully and said “you’re ours”, she knew. She’d come incredibly hard moments after he’d said it, come right on his fingers, muddling the issue in her heart even more… but if she really dug deep, she knew. This morning on the table was the same, in that it solidified the motives and her feelings. It half annoyed her, half thrilled her that Ubbe had snuck in to watch. 

But the thought of her being so attractive that he’d sneak home, and that he was so overcome with lust watching, that he’d had to touch himself practically made her skip. With every step that Ubbe led her further from the village, she felt her blood rush stronger in her body. Ubbe had been sweet in the barn, that first time, warm and funny and playful. Maybe she thought, hopefully, if it were just the two of them again, it would be all right. They finally reached a small glade, hidden well, surrounded by thickly leaved trees and moss. A small creek burbled near by and Margrethe felt like she was in the land of the gods itself, it was so peaceful and beautiful. There was a large boulder in the center and Ubbe led her to it. Margrethe touched it, enjoyed its warmth from the sun. Ubbe pulled her to him, turning her. She expected a kiss and closed her eyes, tilted her chin up at him, but it never came. He had her out of her dress in one swift motion and he stepped back. Her eyes flew open and she stood still, shocked and wondering. Ubbe stood there, smiling as he surveyed her body. He loped around her like a wolf, still dressed, and she found herself suddenly insecure, hoping he liked what he saw. She smiled, tried to catch his eye, but he simply prowled around her, eyes everywhere on her but back into her eyes. He shuffled out of his tunic, belt and pants and stood before her, his cock rock hard, arms posed and flexed at his sides almost as if he were about to raise them in battle. Margreth felt a shiver of fear shoot up her spine and hoped he wasn’t angry at her for the morning on the table with Hvitserk. 

She steeled herself against the fear, knew she couldn’t show him that bit of guilt. She lowered her lashes, looked up at him through them, trailed a finger down her side and made a noise in her throat. But Ubbe just stared, his chest heaving. She switched tactics, realizing with a sick sense of dread in her stomach that he wanted a little fear from her. “Ubbe?” she squeaked and let a little of the fear in her mind show in her eyes. His eyes glinted and she terrifyingly realized that was exactly what he was after. After what seemed like an eternity, finally, he slid up to her. Again, she hoped stupidly for a gentle touch, a stroke of her breast or a languid kiss. Instead he slapped her hard across the face, hard enough for her to see stars. Her hand flew to her stinging skin and she gaped at him. He placed one finger on her chest and pushed firmly. “Lay back.” 

This time his command didn't thrill her and she pressed her back to the rock, petrified. He pried her knees apart and entered her, hard and fast. Margrethe gasped at the force, momentarily paralyzed. Ubbe grunted and she cried out at the sharp rock edges digging into her back. He squatted down slightly, grabbed the backs of her thighs and pulled her legs up and around him. All their combined weight was now on her back and she gasped at the boulder cutting into her flesh. She tried desperately to use her arms to push into the rock and help keep her back off it, but Ubbe snarled at her and she reluctantly threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her neck and she squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears escaping. He pounded into her and she finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Ubbe, Ubbe, please, you’re hurting me,” she pleaded, but he kept going. Out of desperation, she clenched down around him, circled her hips, trying desperately to make him finish quickly. Thankfully, he soon did and as he pulled out of her, Margrethe sniffed back the remainder of her tears and wiped her eyes. Ubbe slipped into his clothes as Margrethe gingerly bent down, pulled her dress up to cover herself. She was trembling but tried to hide it from him. Ubbe turned to walk back. “Ubbe?” she sobbed. He didn’t turn, but started walking out of the glade. Margrethe tried to pull on her dress, her arms shaking. “Ubbe?” She slipped the dress over her head and when she looked up, Ubbe was gone.


	4. Brothers and Viking Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this story...

She had one thought as she tripped and stumbled back to the house. She wanted to find Hvitserk as fast as she could. 

She entered the house cautiously, unsure if Ubbe would be there. It was empty and then she worried that he had found Hvitserk and had gone somewhere with him. She stoked the fire to blazing and sat in front of it, wrapped in a fur. What on earth was going on, she wondered. This whole thing was Ubbe’s idea and now he was clearly angry at her for it. She was completely trapped. She pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed. Oh where was Hvitserk, she wondered. The door opened then, it was him and Margrethe was on her feet in a flash, burying her face into his chest, her wrap falling aside. He chuckled out a short laugh, not seeing her sadness and mistaking her ferocious desperation for lust. 

A hard sob escaped her and he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back to look at her. His eyes quickly went from amusement to worry when he saw her face, the handprint still red upon her cheek. He jumped back, unsheathed his knife and with his body poised low and ready, stalked around the house. Finding no random attacker in the kitchen, he turned to Margrethe. “Where’s Ubbe?” He was simply inquisitive, not understanding, and hoping Ubbe hadn’t been killed by an attacker, whomever had slapped Margrethe. She shook her head desperately, willing her mouth to work to explain but she couldn’t and Hvitserk called louder. “Ubbe?!” Margrethe lunged and clawed at him, desperate. “No! Don’t yell for him.” She began crying again and couldn’t speak anymore, so Hvitserk simply let her crumple into his embrace. His arms unknowingly squeezed and scraped against her wounds and she cried out. 

Hvitserk stepped back as if burned and then tentatively turned her around. The blood that had soaked through her dress was now dried, but nonetheless shocking. He sucked in his breath, whipped her back around, the sick reality coming to him. “Did Ubbe do this?” Margrethe nodded, sniffled. Hvitserk snarled in response. His hands formed fists and he stomped around a few steps, growling and huffing, enraged by her hurt and his powerlessness. Margrethe’s sobs brought him back to her and he reached out, pressed his warm, loving hand right against the now pink welt of Ubbe’s slap. He kissed her gently. “He, he-“ she hiccuped, unable to explain. “I’m here. No, don’t talk yet.” Hvitserk picked her up very gently and carried her to the bed. She tried to talk again and he silenced her again with a kiss. She inhaled sharply, then kissed him back, slowly. While they kissed, he held her face in his hands, stroked her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs and soon her breathing slowed. He got up slowly, got a rag and the bucket of water from the kitchen, brought them back to the bed. Margrethe let him slip her dress from her gingerly, sucking in her breath where the dried blood stuck to the wounds. She sniffled again, pulled her knees up and let Hvitserk, sitting behind her, tend to her cuts. 

“What happened, Margrethe?” he asked, his voice low and measured. She could tell he was holding back an immense amount of anger but his love edged it with tenderness and her heart fluttered at it. She swallowed hard, tried to gather herself togehter. Hvitserk stopped cleaning her cuts for a moment to kiss her shoulder and that helped her begin.   
“Ubbe, he took me into the woods, he, we... he took me, very roughly. I was on a rock, I was crying, he wouldn’t stop.” She burst into tears again and Hvitserk held her shoulders, pressed his forehead gently to an unmarred part of her upper back. He clenched his eyes shut hard, gritted his teeth. Margrethe hiccuped again, shuddered and settled her tears and Hvitzerk rose, started dabbing at her bloody back again. Margrethe took a deep breath. “He, he saw us that morning. On the table. He- “ 

Hvitserk’s hands on her back stopped. “He what?!” Margrethe nodded.

“He snuck in. I saw him peering through that hole right there.” She nodded and Hvitserk looked over, closed his eyes and huffed out his breath. Margrethe looked down at her lap, ashamed. “It was sort of exciting, having secrets with both of you... and being desired by both of you.” she continued. “But it's getting too confusing, too hard. And he's getting too possessive. I mean, that first night, the marriage night, I thought it might be all right, I was so happy to also get to have you again… but what was I supposed to do? He's my husband.” She turned to face him, pulled her knees to her chest again to cover herself. Hvitserk nodded. “What were WE supposed to do?” He looks up at her, eyes warm. “I get it, Margrethe. I was there too. He's my brother, and the eldest. If we wanted to be together, we had to do what Ubbe said. I thought too, the sharing you part was so strangely exciting, and I thought it would be okay.” He reaches around, touches her back gently, tracing the edge of one of the deep scrapes with his fingertip. “This is not okay, Margrethe.” She nods. “I know. Oh Hvitserk.” She lowers her voice and turned to him. “I wish I could just be with you.” 

He leans in and kisses her again, both of them sucking in their breath, grabbing for each other’s faces. Margrethe pulled away slowly. 

“We can’t let him catch us right now like this. Do you know where he went? He didn’t say anything, after. Hvitserk nodded. “I saw him right before I came here, but I was too far away to call to him and he didn’t see me. He was getting on a boat. I don’t know where he was going, but he’s gone for a little while at least.” Margrethe smiled at that. Hvitserk reached up, touched her face. “Back feel better?” She nodded, laid back on the furs, then slid under them. Hvitserk pulled them up tighter around her, went to get up. “Do you want to rest for while?” Margrethe shook her head, reached for him. “Come here,” Margrethe said, her voice slow, heavy and sweet as if made of honey. Hvitserk obliged, slipping out of his clothes and under the furs with her. He pulled her towards him and buried his face where her neck met her shoulder. He kissed it, breathed warmly against it, inhaling her scent, her skin. 

“All I could think after he left me there was I wanted to come back here as quickly as possible, to you. I wanted to make love to you as sweetly and slowly as possible, My Hvitserk. My Viking.” Hvitserk’s eyes widened, softening, all his muscles but one yielding to her, melting at her declaration. He wrapped her in his arms, kissed her deeply and she whimpered under him, so happy to be alone with him like this. He rolled her ever so gently onto her tortured back, his eyes searching hers for a need to stop, but they glistened at him, full of love and needing him. He kissed her deeply, one hand in her hair and his free hand exploring her body, making her purr and moan. She arched against him and he moved over top of her. They moved as if one, hands, their hips all seeming to sense the others’ movements just before it happened and shifting to accommodate, dancing against one another, with one another, perfectly in unison. He slid inside of her, and they both sucked in their breath at the same moment, the feeling enveloping them together. They lay perfectly still for a moment, simply enjoying the joining. Hvitserk was bearing all his weight on his forearms and he locked eyes with Margrethe. He pushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears tenderly. Then he reached behind her neck with one hand, holding her head softly in his palm and bringing her lips to his. As his tongue explored her mouth, his free hand stroked the side of her face. 

Margrethe’s hands ran along his back, feeling the muscles flex and contract as he moved slowly within her. Her knees bent, she planted her feet flat on the mattress and used them to lever against his hips with every languid motion. It amazed her how quickly these slow, almost lazy movements were already guiding her towards her peak. She also reveled in the feeling of being totally alone, completely intimate with him. The only time she ever had before was in the woods once and even then, her skin had prickled like the forest was watching, like there were eyes upon her, just like the time on the table right before she had noticed Ubbe. 

But this time, her skin felt as fluid as warmed oil and didn't alert her to anything beyond Hvitzerk's love. It felt like they were the only people in the entire world, the surroundings contracting and shrinking down to just them. It was devoid of all other noise, movement, sights, smells, everything. It was all Hvitserk and her. The only sound in the world was his breath, his moans in her ear, the only movements his hips against hers, then his mouth on hers and his fingers in her hair. She thought briefly how wonderful the sound and movements were that maybe she could forgo the sense of sight, but opening her eyes quickly and locking her gaze with and losing herself in his deep green ones, she decided, no, she needed that too. 

The only smell in their little world, oh that was the best, Margrethe thought inhaling deeply, was their sweat mixed together, warming on their skin and mingling with the underlying musky hint of sex. She loved this man with all of her, no longer wished to share herself with Ubbe, not for one more moment. She was all Hvitserk’s. Even if Ubbe stormed in and raped her right now, she wouldn't surrender an ounce of her soul to him.   
As if reading her thoughts, Hvitserk pulled away slightly and whispered “I love you, Margrethe.” She smiled and whispered back the same, adding “I’m yours, all yours, no matter what.” She wrapped her legs around him at that, pulled him tighter with her arms and he moved more quickly and powerfully against her, pushing himself so deeply into her, she whooped in a quick breath, then sighed against him. 

Hvitserk felt like he was lost deep within her, but found at the same time, and his head was swimming as he tried to decipher it. The strangest sensation began building in him, and he briefly, dumbly wondered what it was. It felt like every thing within him was funneling to his center, then pulsing, coursing between his heart and his groin. He’d obviously come before, but this was different, it was his entire being that was surging towards release, not just his body, but his heart, his spirit. His heart clenched at the same moment his balls tucked up tightly against him and he gritted his teeth, knowing the best climax of his life was imminent. 

His mind was filled then with the memory of first orgasm he’d ever given her, now knowing it was the only other one he’d ever given her alone, in the woods, with his mouth, up against a mossy tree, before she'd married Ubbe. He hadn’t been able to see her face as it was buried under her dress, but he’d felt her thighs flex under his palms, heard the small whimper, then a long moan and felt her buck against his face… and the taste of her, earthy and slightly sweet…it was nearly the paradise of the afterlife itself have his head snug between her thighs. She’d finished then, he’d come up to her, wiped his mouth and she’d kissed him deeply, moaning, clearly enjoying the taste of herself on him. 

Hvitserk nearly lost himself at the thought, and gritted his teeth again, and every muscle in his body pulled taut against the ultimate release. To his relief, he felt her pace and breath quicken as well and she dug her heels into the back of his thighs. Hvitserk pulled himself from his elbows up to his palms, burying himself deeply and hard within her. Fresh sweat slicked their bodies and he vaguely registered her drawing a long breath through her nose, moan, then cry out in what was nearly a shriek. She shuddered beneath him, the ecstasy coursing through her veins and muscles. He could actually feel it through her skin and Hvitzerk, in a daze, thanked the gods for this woman and for her climax so he could finally spill into her with all he had. And as he’d suspected, it was the best one he’d ever had. The sounds that came out of him were animalistic and couldn’t even be defined into a single term. It was first a gasp, ratcheted up into a stuttered howl, then melted into a thankful sigh. His body tensed up against her, his palms planted firmly on the mattress, and his spine curved back like a scorpion's tail. He tossed his head back, every muscle fiber in his body tensed at once, then he hunched back down towards her, and convulsed thrice in a shudder. 

Margrethe watched in wide eyed awe. She was still dumbstruck from her own climax, and although her limbs were useless, loose, her brain fuzzy and her breath staccato, she still had full use of her vision. She had never seen a man like Hvitserk just then, couldn't have even imagined it... a male body in full ecstatic extension. She briefly registered its simple artistic beauty first, shocked into appreciating the elongated, lean lines of his muscles before her heart flooded with love , so glad she had given him that and was witnessing it in the flesh. She knew at that moment, she was his, truly, that he had never, would never, could never have that with another. 

He collapsed onto her, both of them breathless, him from living that orgasm, her from seeing it. All those muscles of his body, strained so tight and flexed earlier were now as blissfully loose as wild grass in the wind and he surrendered to the feeling, as if he had any power left to fight it. He turned his head to the side, nestled it into her neck and smiled when he saw her smile. He gathered the last ounce of power he had to lean in, kiss her and they fell asleep. 

It was the best sleep of his life, his lovely beloved in his arms, both their loins throbbing and their joints loose from release, but a few hours later it was sharply interrupted by the worst wake up. Near dawn, Hvitserk was roughly flipped over, and then before he could gather his wits and realize what was happening, hands were at his throat. He grabbed futilely at his elder brother’s arms as his love, his Margrethe woke up and shrieked. “Ubbe! No!” She scrabbled at his arms as well, but his eyes and every ounce of strength were focused on killing Hvitserk. Hvitserk’s vision faded from color to stars bursting to black as he felt his life draining out. There was a loud, sickening smack, the pressure on his neck released and then wonderful, glorious air flooded Hvitserk’s lungs. He gasped, his body bending at the waist, recovering from the near strangulation. He rolled onto his side, gasping then saw Margrethe still standing over Ubbe, the large, horn cup in her hand, her entire body trembling. 

“Is, is he alive?” she stuttered. He looked over at him, vaguely registered his slowly expanding chest and nodded. “Yes,” he reassured her… and himself. It wouldn’t have been good at all if his lover had killed her husband. No one knew about Ubbe’s permission, his arrangement for the both of them to share Margrethe and they could have easily been suspected of murder. 

Margrethe sobbed just then and Hvitserk pulled her into his chest, her small, lithe body curling against him as her body was racked with tears. Ubbe groaned just then and Hvitserk looked down at his beloved older brother feeling a tear in his chest like none other. Hvitserk wanted to kill him for how he’d hurt Margrethe the other day, but as a brother, as a man, as a Viking, he totally understood Ubbe’s claim to Margrethe and would have wanted to kill him too. Ubbe came to, groaned again and grabbed at his head. There was already a small bump forming and a bleeding cut. He opened his eyes, realized he had failed in killing Hvitserk and claiming his wife. The despair at his choices, his failure crumpled his face like a child's. He curled into a smaller ball and Hvitserk’s heart clenched again in sympathy. But he wouldn’t let him know that, couldn’t embarrass him. After a moment, Ubbe rolled to his side, stood up, his knees briefly weakened and faltered beneath him, but he grabbed for the wall and steadied himself. His shoulders hung limp with surrender to the thought of losing his wife to his brother, but he still leveled his eyes at Hvitserk and frowned. 

“Hvitserk. She was mine.” 

Both Hvitserk and Margrethe just gaped at him, unsure what to say. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want me-“ Ubbe starts but Margrethe piped up. “Ubbe, I-” but he holds a hand up. “You love him more. Or maybe you only love him. Like I said, the night we were married. I can see.” Hvitserk let his arms drop from Margrethe, cautiously approached Ubbe.   
“Brother. She is beautiful, wonderful and yes, you had first right to her, I understand that and I agree with your right to be furious with me. She is worth the world to me-“ Margrethe smiled a small smile at that, her chest flushing. Ubbe noticed it and his eyes softened towards her. Hvitzerk took another step towards Ubbe, reached out his hand and slowly laid it on his brother’s shoulder. “But I don’t want either of us to die over this. We’ve already lost a brother and I don’t want to lose another.” Ubbe raised his head and the two brothers locked eyes. Ubbe reached out and mirrored Hvitserk’s grasp on his shoulder, then pulled him in slightly to touch foreheads.   
“You’re right brother. It’s not that she’s not worth it, it’s that we both are precious to one another and to our kind. Viking is brotherhood, and we are Viking princes, Viking brothers. That will always come first in my mind.” Hvitserk’s breath escaped in a relieved sigh at that and then sucked in again as Ubbe pulled him into a strong hug.


End file.
